


Lucky

by talkingtothesky



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, Guns, M/M, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stakeout goes wrong. Gene gets shot, and Sam has to leave him behind to confront the perpetrators.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xysabridde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xysabridde/gifts).



For once, Gene was feeling magnanimous. He was even allowing the car radio to play the kind of squealing psychedelic drug-induced rock rubbish that Sam seemed to like so much. In return, this gave him every sodding right to hog the binoculars.

"What's happening?" Sam asked, fingers drumming restlessly on the dashboard, sometimes in sync with the music, sometimes not.

"Just getting out of his car now..." Gene muttered, not taking his eyes away. They were lucky Gibbs and his trio of small-time villains had parked so near to the wall on the second level of the multi-storey car park, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to see what was going on inside. The Cortina was waiting on the road outside, ready to nab them once they tried to leave.

"Let me have a look?" Sam sighed, clearly bored out of his crackpot brains after sitting in one place for three-and-a-half hours.

"Nope." Gene said cheerfully. The other three men had got out of the car, milling about with their hands in their pockets. Gibbs circled round to the boot, his back to Gene, and took out a heavy yellow cloth bag which was bulging on one side with the tell-tale stretch of rifle barrels. 

Sam's handheld radio crackled into life. "Second car just drove up the ramp, Boss." Ray and Chris were parked round the opposite side of the building, so they had both entrance and exit covered.

"We're in business." Gene was looking forward to finally nabbing these slippery bastards.

Sam straightened in his seat and spoke into the radio, looking much happier now that he was able to give out some orders, with the added bonus that the tedious stakeout was nearly at an end. "Thanks, Ray. Stay in position and wait for my signal."

Gene kept watching. Moments later the second car pulled up, blocking Gibbs' car in. CID didn't know much about who they were selling to, out-of-towners, three burly blokes...One of them took the bag from Gibbs and started laying the guns out on his bonnet one by one, checking they weren't fakes. 

It was then that Gene spotted something out of place. Another man advancing towards the gang gathered round the car. Something about the way he walked was familiar. "Shit," Gene hissed, his good mood and confidence for a smooth arrest evaporating in one blow. He fiddled with the knob on the binoculars, trying to zoom in and determine exactly who..."No. Oh no you don't." Nosey Nick had given Gene the tip-off that this job was happening - when and where. And now here he was talking to them...

"Guv, what's wrong?" 

....Pointing in the direction of the road...

Dropping the binoculars, Gene had just enough time to yell "GET DOWN!" He seized the back of Sam's jacket collar, forcing him to double over. Half a second later, the passenger side window shattered into a thousand pieces. Gene's left forearm caught the first bullet. It hurt like a fucker, but Gene's prevailing emotion was relief that it hadn't gone through into Sam's back. Along with the din of bullets bouncing off the Cortina's bodywork, Sam was shouting into the radio still clasped in his hands, for Phyllis, for an ambulance, to warn Ray, for backup...

Gene let go of him and tried to get the car into reverse, but his shot arm was proving too weak to pull on the gearstick. He reached across with his right arm and managed it, awkwardly. Gene slammed his foot down and the car rocketed backwards, narrowly missing a lamppost. Next moment, he felt something whistle past his ankle and slam into the carpet, then a second site of agonizing pain blossomed on his right shin, causing him to lose his grip on the pedal, the car lurching to a stop. "Aaaaargh, bastard!" He howled, then grit his teeth and shut his eyes and put pressure on it again. He had to get Sam out of here alive, at least.

He wrenched the wheel around, and by a feat of great driving skill but mostly luck, managed to reverse them down a narrow side street at the far end of the car park which he knew couldn't be seen from above. He made sure to ram into some dustbins just before he stopped - the Cortina's bodywork was already dented by bullets - to make some noise so that the gunners would assume the car had crashed.

Then he leant his head against the steering wheel, panting heavily. For a minute or two neither of them spoke, the sound of gunfire ceased, the only noise in the car their harsh breaths as they tried to calm down.

"Christ, Gene," Sam whispered, horrified. Evidently he'd just caught sight of Gene's arm. "How many times are you shot?"

"Twice." Gene coughed. "You?"

Gene looked up and sat back. Sam patted himself down. "None," he said, looking half-amazed, half-sheepish. But as Sam turned his head, Gene realised with a jolt that the left side of Sam's face was shredded with bleeding cuts, tiny pieces of window glass embedded in his skin.

"Don't rub your eye," he said quickly, grabbing the rear-view mirror with his right hand and angling it so Sam could see his reflection. 

"Oh."

Gene let go of the mirror and reached into his coat pocket. "Are you sure you're not hurt apart from that?"

Sam shrugged. "I can't feel anything."

Gene nodded grimly and drew out his gun. "Sorry, Sammy, but you've gotta go back in there. There's civilians around, and we can't leave Ray and Chris on their own until backup gets here. I'd come with you but I can't walk. Take my gun, go find Ray and Chris, try to still make the arrests if you can."

Accepting the gun gingerly, Sam eyed him, worry etched into every line and bleeding cut on his face. "But...what are you gonna do?"

Gene groaned and leaned back against the headrest, trying to smile encouragingly from the corner of his mouth. "Called an ambulance, didn't ya?"

Sam nodded jerkily, swallowed hard. "I don't want to leave you. Don't you dare bleed out before help gets here, alright?" He was already opening the door handle before he'd finished speaking.

Gene had a sudden, vitally important, thought. "Sam, wait." He dove into his pockets again, and produced two hip flasks. He shoved them roughly into Sam's jacket, in the pockets over his chest. "Makeshift armour. Don't worry, I've still got plenty for pain relief." He said this last bit with a wink. 

Sam didn't smile back. He looked on the verge of tears. He kissed Gene's cheek lightning-fast then wrenched himself out of the car. The street was so narrow the car door hit the wall as he climbed out. He walked around behind the car and tucked Gene's gun into his belt, hidden by his jacket. Then he swung himself over the waist-high concrete wall of the car park's ground level and disappeared from view.

Gene tried not to feel terrified for him. He had his radio, and two guns, and protection, of sorts. He was fast and agile, and Sam's aim, though Gene would never admit it out loud, was better than his own.

\---

When Sam walked into Gene's hospital room later that evening, their twin relieved grins could have powered the sun. Gene was sitting in a comfy chair next to the bed, his leg in plaster and arm in thick bandages. On the wheelie table at the end of his bed there was a truly enormous collection of bags of grapes.

"Here," said Sam, holding out a large packet of pink wafers which he'd been hiding behind his back. "Have some pink to go with your...garden of green."

Gene tried to look imperious, but it didn't really work while he was grinning. "You're clearly not my first visitor of the day. What time do you call this?"

Sam sat himself down on the edge of Gene's bed. "I had the rest of the case to wrap up. Cells to lock, reports to type. Plus, they don't do these in the stall downstairs, y'know? I had to go shopping specially." He opened the packet and took one before offering them to Gene. He bit into it. "Hngggg, and I'm starving."

Gene took two and shoved them both in his mouth together. Sugary crumbs cascaded down the front of his gown as he bit them in half. Sam made a face as Gene proceeded to attempt to talk while chewing "So 'ow wuz yer..." He swallowed and tried again. "How was your seven-against-three shoot-out, then?"

Sam grabbed another wafer and looked at the floor, turning it around in his fingers. "Surprisingly similar to Playstation, actually."

"What?" Gene grunted in confusion.

"Oh, nothing. You should've seen Chris, though! He was incredible! Took out two of them with the same bullet, which was especially fortunate, since he told me after that it was his last one." Sam shook his head, smiling to himself. "Lot of luck today." With gentle fingers Sam had managed to pry off the outer layer of his wafer, nibbled at it delicately until it was all gone, and then started to lick at the cream layer. 

Gene watched him, transfixed. "Come here," he said, when Sam had finished eating, patting his knees to indicate Sam should sit on them.

Sam looked around the room, and then at Gene's leg. "Are you sure that's safe?"

"I don't much care."

Sam blinked at him, then held up the packet of wafers. "Where should I put these?" As if that was a valid excuse for not giving his Guv a cuddle when he asked for one.

"Just chuck 'em on the bed, Gladys."

"Er...no." He stood up and placed them carefully on the edge of the grape-laden table.

"Still anal about crumbs in bed, then."

" _Don't talk about anal in here_ ," Sam hissed, and then blushed furiously.

Gene was swept up in a spasm of uncontrollable laughter, and only stopped when it turned into a cough. By which time Sam had stopped blushing and was instead anxiously stroking Gene's chest.

Which reminded Gene. Without warning he plunged his good hand into the pocket of Sam's jacket and pulled out his hipflask. He turned it around, checking both sides, brushing his fingers over the smooth metal. Sam showed him the other one. "You took good care of them, ta."

"They took good care of me," Sam said, misty-eyed.

Gene pulled him into a tight hug, and Sam buried his face in his shoulder.

"C'mon, sit," Gene pressed gently at the small of Sam's back until Sam relented and balanced carefully on Gene's thighs, his feet on the floor still taking most of his weight. Gene stroked Sam's chin and looked at the side of Sam's face - someone, he assumed Annie, had painstakingly picked all the pieces of glass off him, and applied plasters to the worse-off areas.

"You'll be alright," he told Sam firmly.

Sam smiled, and nodded, and kissed him.

\---

Sam drove him home a week later in the newly-repaired Cortina. It looked so perfect Gene was convinced it was a completely different car, until Sam showed him the slight dent in the floor under the driver's foot-well where a bullet had landed, the one remaining reminder. Sam said the whole department chipped in for its repairs, but Gene knew Sam must've contributed the most, and done the lion's share of the work. It was...humbling, this partnership they shared. Gene considered himself very lucky indeed.


End file.
